


Last Call

by Fulcrumisthebomb



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, fluffy gay robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 07:04:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fulcrumisthebomb/pseuds/Fulcrumisthebomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why doesn't Skids ever leave the bar with one of the many bots who offer their berth for the night?<br/>Swerve is <i>so curious.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Call

**Author's Note:**

> Just like with Misfire/Fulcrum, there's very little Skids/Swerve.  
> *noisy sobbing*

"Last call!"

Swerve grinned at the collective moans and curses; he enjoyed what power he held over the bar's patrons, even though it's inconsequential- mostly because it is so. It's his own little fiefdom on this wreck of a ship, and _he_ is supreme ruler.

There's a flurry of bots weaving their way up to the bar, slouching and mumbling as they order a last round of drinks for the night. He serves them with much teasing and several winks as a few bots pair up and shuffle out. The bar wasn't nearly as nice as he wanted it to be, but it had become a haven for all types of activities beyond drinking, including finding others to warm a berth for a night or two. 

Swerve loved it. The brawls that broke out over arguments and jealousies were an added bonus, beyond the juicy gossip they unwittingly provided. His favourite so far had been when someone had gotten a little too friendly with Tailgate; the offending bot had left a dent in the wall when Cyclonus had thrown him, and Tailgate's profuse apologies had been just _darling._

What he _didn't_ love was cleaning. But, it came with the job, and since he was thrilled to have the bar in the first place he only complained to Skids. Swerve wasn't sure when it happened, but it had become a habit for Skids to lock up after the last bot left, returning to sit at the bar and watch Swerve tidy the area- and often sneaking a few more drinks before all the bottles were stowed away. 

Swerve didn't think much of it when he first noticed this pattern; he was grateful for the- albeit small- bit of help Skids was and for a pair of quiet audials to rant to. It was nice to have someone who actually _processed_ and _remembered_ what he said; most of his interactions with the other crewmates varied between verbal insults to simple glaring. Skids never did that to anyone- well, at least not _only_ the insulting and glaring part. He always listened and always had a snarky reply, and Swerve took advantage of grabbing any of that attention he could get.

It struck Swerve as strange after a while, though; Skids would remain behind after the bar closed, swiping the high-grade within reach and grinning at Swerve's ramblings. It wasn't from lack of offers; Skids got at least one an evening in varying stages of drunkenness. And it wasn't from dubious people Swerve only knew by name- the offers and gropes came from all types of tall, pretty bots.

Puzzling, really. The offers were no surprise; Skids was taller and prettier and shinier than _all_ the other bots combined. What stupefied Swerve was the fact that Skids apparently turned them all down. He spent some time trying to figure it out but easily became frustrated; why wonder when he could just ask?

~~~~

"Gimme that."

Skids started, optics unfocused as he clutched the bottle to his chassis. "No."

Swerve just smiled, hand held out patiently. "Do it, or that's the last you'll ever get from me."

Skids frowned deeply, considering for several seconds before he reluctantly slid the bottle down the counter. Swerve huffed in amusement and replaced it on the shelf behind him. "'Ey, Skids?"

"I've decided I hate you." Skids slumped forward, helm crashing on his crossed arms. "Just so you know."

" _Suuure,_ until you wander in here tomorrow." Swerve dug a stained rag out and began wiping the counter down methodically. "Got a question for ya."

There was another pause before Skids replied with a curious grunt.

"What're ya doin' here?" Swerve asked, optics overly bright with anticipation. "I know at least two bots asked you back to their berth tonight. Why don't ya ever leave with someone?"

Skids stumbled to his feet, mouth curled into a slight smile as he reached down the bar, a hand capturing one of Swerve's. "But I do," he replied simply.

Swerve froze as the implication hit. Skids didn't mean- He'd never asked Skids _that,_ they just shared a room so _of course_ they left together- Skids was so lovely and tall and could grab anyone he wanted- Skids didn't understand he _meant-_

But he _did,_ if Swerve was reading that tiny smirk correctly. A curl of heat lit his core, spreading across his frame pleasurably. Swerve stepped closer, keeping Skids' hand locked firmly on his as he glanced up at the widened optics.

"The stuff I've been doin' to ya in my processor would prob'ly get us thrown off the ship," Swerve said coyly. "So... Ya wanna come back to my room tonight and see what happens?"

The shock drained from Skids' expression as the taller bot leaned in with a wide grin. "I bet you're just as much a chatterbox in the berth, huh? You just as loud, too?"

"You know it," Swerve grinned. He scrambled over the counter, flinging himself into Skids' arms and began nipping at neck cabling.

"Let's- _ahh-_ make 'em all jealous, then."


End file.
